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And yet, +1.
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"Welcome back."
The room around you comes slowly into focus. Your head throbs, and your veins feel heavy and leaden.
"Three two five…" you say. The numbers are there, floating on the edge of your thoughts. They came to you in the darkness of your sleep before, shining like a beacon. You reach for them again, closing your eyes to see them better.
"What was that, soldier?" asks the doctor.
"Three two five five seven. Sergeant Barnes, Ja-."
"What do those numbers mean?"
"They're- they're my...my number, my--."
"They are nothing. You are nothing." The man sighs from next to your bed. "And do you want to know why you're nothing?"
Confusion makes the throbbing in your head worse and when you try to sit up, you find you can't. Your wrists and ankles are restrained. Cuffed to the bed you're lying on with leather and chain.
"You are nothing, because you don't know your purpose. A purpose that I gave you." The doctor doesn't look well. His skin is tinged a sickly shade of green and his words are ( ... )
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